


Starting Off on the Right Foot

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2016 MFUWSS Easter Egg Challenge for Emeraldarrow</p><p>Prompt:  I would love a gen egg of Napoleon and Illya's first day working together, please. H/C would be a most lovely, but not necessary addition. TV-verse. Many thanks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starting Off on the Right Foot

“Here, let me get the door.” Illya Kuryakin kept a careful hold on his partner as he worked the unfamiliar lock.

“You need to turn the key around.” Napoleon did his best to keep the pain from his voice.

“Right.” Illya quickly opened the door and helped Napoleon hobble to the alarm so he could punch in the code.   The flashing red light went green and Illya took the moment to get the front door shut and locked.

Napoleon hissed as he tried to take a step. He half hopped to his couch and plopped down.  Gently he lifted his injured leg up and propped it on the coffee table.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Medical?”

“Let them poke and prod me for three hours then tell me it’s sprained? No thanks, I already know it’s sprained.”

“You have the same regard for doctors that I have, then. Do you have an ice pack?”  Illya took a moment to look around the apartment.  It was nicer than his.  Much nicer, in fact.

“Bathroom under the sink,” Napoleon paused and then added. “Sorry, down the hall, second door on the left.”

“Thank you.” Illya moved quickly away, mentally berating himself for not having been quicker.   If he’d been a moment faster, he might have been able to spare Napoleon the fall.

He came back and Napoleon was at the wet bar, pouring himself a shot of scotch into a tumbler of ice.   Illya joined him, his head cocked to one side in question.  “I had to make sure the ice was okay.”  He offered the glass to Illya.  “After a day like today, I know I can use a drink.”

Illya took the glass and waited until Napoleon had filled a second glass with ice and scotch. “Salute,” he murmured and sipped.  “Very nice.  Much better than most I’ve tasted.”

“You were stationed in London. They have fabulous scotches there.”

“And a host of other things. One can only afford so much on a junior agent’s salary.”  Illya filled the ice pack and wrapped it in a towel.  “You should probably keep off that as much as possible.”

“Good idea. Listen can you cook?”

“A little.”

“Can you dial?” Napoleon offered him a phone book and hobbled back to the couch.   “Casari’s is good.”

Four hours later, filled with food and alcohol, Napoleon was finding it hard not to nod off. “Sorry about today,” he murmured.  “Some first impression.”  He was aware of Illya covering him with a blanket.

“I don’t need a first impression, Napoleon. I just need a partner.”

“Me, too.”

“And I should apologize to you.”

“Partners never need apologies. I would have been lost without you today.  Thanks.”

Illya settled down in the chair close by. “And partners never need to say that, either.”


End file.
